David Crane - Scandal school

She lapped up to his fat stalk, slurping juicily, then parted her lips and fed his great cock head into her ravenous mouth. Her checks bulged. Her eyes widened, as if his pecker head was so huge that it had nudged her brain out of position and forced her eyes to expand.

His dick was so big that it was hard to suck. She tried her best, whimpering. Her head bobbed up and down as if she were ducking for apples, but she could not slide her eager mouth up and down his shaft, as his cock head filled her mouth all the way back toward her throat. He was trying to help her, trying to fuck into her mouth, but instead of sliding his rod in and out, he was merely moving her head about on the end of it.

He grasped her by the head, blunt fingers twisting in her hair, trying to hold her head steady so that lie could fuck her mouth, but it was impossible. Never before had he regretted the dimensions of his dork, and never before had sex, mad Amanda Bridewell wished that her mouthful of hot dick was a bit smaller. She was mouthing his cock like a hot potato, burning her tongue, but it was too tasty to reject.

She saw that it simply was not possible to give him a blow job in the normal fashion.

Undaunted, the cock-starved schoolmarm wrapped her delicate hand around his stalk. Her fingers could barely span that great breadth. She began to pump him up and down with her hand while her mouth sucked frantically on his knob.

If it occurred to the anti-masturbation coach that he was being given a hand job, he ignored that wasn't the same when the head of a dick being jacked was fitted in a mouth, not the same thing at all. In fact, he took her by the wrist and guided her into the proper rhythm, then withdrew his hand and let her get on with the job.

She was proud of herself. She knew there was no job too big, no task too hot to handle. She set to work in earnest now, ready and eager for his orgasm. She was pumping him slowly and steadily with one hand. Her other hand cupped his balls, caressing the hairy sac. She was using her tongue and cheeks and lips all at the same time, in wonderful conjunction. Her tongue glided back and forth against the underside of his knob. Her cheeks pulled at the fat slab of meat. Her lips sucked adoringly at the whole great wad of pecker head.

She was so skilled and Miller was so hot that it could not last long. His big body began to shiver, then tremble, then vibrate. His hard frame hummed like a tuning fork to the pitch of her oral note. Muscles leaped and jumped out all over him and his phallic muscle was jumping in her mouth, his balls as inflated as a balloon.

"I'm… gonna… blow…" he said, warning her to be prepared to have her tonsils whitewashed, or promising her that she was about to be fed.

She said, "Unghhh," which was all she could manage to say with her mouth brimful of bulging pecker.

She sucked with devotion. She seemed to be worshipping the phallic idol, paying oral homage to this symbol of potency.

Miller gave a strangled cry. His balls erupted and the thick sap poured up his fat tube and blasted into her throat, with such force that the schoolmarm's head was buffeted backwards. Gamely, she forced her face down, pushing down against the great jet of his semen like a salmon fighting its way upstream to spawn. Her throat worked as she frantically gulped his jism down in order to make room for more, for the jet was still pouring from his cock head in a steady spring. There was no time to savor the delicate flavor of his cum. She had to swallow it down desperately as it continued to spurt forth in a ceaseless torrent.

As he had in her cunt, Miller blew the whole load in one gigantic geyser. He sagged. His heavy shoulders seemed to cave in as his legs trembled. He felt as if he had shot more than cum into her eager throat – as if his blood, his brains, his organs, his very skeleton had melted and been blasted from his dick, leaving him no more than an empty bag of skin.

Miller as finished, but Amanda was not. The terminal dregs of his spunk were still drooling from his cock, and she was milking him to the last drop. Now that the force of his ejaculation had been spent, she had time to savor the spunk on her tastebuds and let it wash around in her mouth before she let it slip down her throat.

She continued to suck even after his prick had softened, her sweet lips pulling on the deflated knob and sucking on the bending rod. She milked him bone-dry before she drew her creamy lips away from his carnal creamer.

She smiled at him, contented as a well-fed cat. Miller and Amanda were, for the enjoyment, both satisfied.

But Skip and Sarah, in the hallway, were just starting to ignite with passion.

Neither Skip nor Sarah had ever seen anything like it before. Sarah, truth be known, was more experienced than the football player, but her experience had all been first hand – that is, although she'd done things, she had never watched anyone else do things. Furthermore, those experiences had mostly been in the dark backseats of cars, so she hadn't really seen what she was doing. And despite her own sexual encounters, Sarah had never been as hot as she was now.

She looked at Skip, her face drained white, her expression one of shock – shock not at what she'd seen, but at the extent of her own lust.

"I believe you," she whispered.

"I believe what you told me… that Miss Bridewell gave you a hand job," she whispered.

"Oh, that. Yeah."

"It's a wonder she didn't blow you, instead. I mean… she obviously loves to give head."

Skip didn't know if it was a wonder or not. He thought it was a shame, though.

He said, "You know, I don't think she whacked me off for my health at all… I think she liked doing it."

"Ummmmm… I don't blame her," Sarah said, smiling.

Skip felt his whole body tighten. He pulled the office door closed silently. He knew there was no hurry, for neither the coach nor the teacher was in any state to come rushing out into the hall. Coach Miller could hardly stand, and Miss Bridewell was digesting an enormous meal.

Skip said, "Have you… ever…?"

"What, Skip?" Sarah asked, looking impish.

"You know."

"Jerked a boy off, you mean?"

Skip was always shocked by her foul mouth, but right now he didn't care. He figured it was appropriate to the situation… and to his designs. "Yeah. Have you?"

Sarah peered at him. She seemed to be pondering her reply – not so much whether she should tell the truth or not, but to what answer would produce the most desirable effect on Skip.

After a moment, she said, "Yes," very softly.

Skip felt all the lust of jealousy. "Who?" he demanded.

"Oh, a couple boys…"

"A couple!"

"Well… five or six…" She had decided her approach was just right for his pecker. His cock had been hard all the while he watched Miss Bridewell suck the coach's dick, and now it began to buck and leap in his pants.

"Why, you're a… a tramp!"

Amanda, looking as demure as possible under the circumstances, averted her eyes and said, "I've even done worse things than jerk them off, Skip…"

"Not…"

"All the way?" he gasped.

"Ummm. A few times."

"Gosh!" he said. "I always thought you were a nice girl, except for your dirty mouth."

"Oh, I never sucked a cock," she said.

"Naw, I mean the way you talk."

"Oh. That."

Now that he knew she was a tramp, Skip felt more confident. He said, "Boy! If I'd known you were a pig…"

He meant no insult and Sarah understood that. It was just an expression of habit, locker room talk and they were, after all, in a locker room.

She said, "I never mean to do it, but sometimes I get so hot I can't help it."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he said. "I'm hot now, Skip. Right now!"